Everything I Tell you is Hearsay

i will begin by saying that i have other, more serious feelings about the economy tumbling downhill, but they are not as amusing as the following sentiments. so.

i have not had a haircut since April. this is actually okay since i am trying to rock the long hair thing, but ultimately a trim would be nice. more upsetting is my lack of funds for other, more crucial elements of my toilet. (pronounce that twah-let, if you please)

i seem to be pathologically incapable of painting my own toenails. i’m not exactly sure why this is, apart from my debilitating lack of hand-eye coordination, but it is nevertheless true. if i try and happen to be working with red, my feet end up looking like the scene of an unsuccessful amputation attempt. and i have learned from experience, no one thinks this is cute. i discovered the joys of the $20 pedicure on 21st avenue some years ago, and i have never looked back. i have nice feets, and a little polish can go a long way. however, due to the BTOD i have been reluctant in the extreme to go have a professional person look at my mangled toenails. finally, in desperation, i asked TBIL to paint them for me, since my halloween costume required open toed shoes. he was game, and did a decent job overall, but i doubt he’s up for semi-monthly pedicure duty, no matter how much he likes me. now that the nails are finally beginning to look normal again, it’s more a problem of funding the project than worry over horrifying the nail techs.

in this same vein, i have been forced to neglect my eyebrows to an extent which is beginning to cause me emotional distress. much in the same way i have ONE person who i allow to cut my hair, i have just one esthetician who i can trust to take care of my brows. i have sensitive skin and come from a hairy people, so the combination of my tendency to have overgrown eyebrows and to break out in a rash when i attempt to remedy the situation calls for some delicacy and skill on the part of my waxer. lucky for me, i found Jojo, and not only is she, like, one of the loveliest people i have ever met in real life, she does a fantastic job keeping the brows in check. but, scheduling can be a challenge, and brokeness has been rearing its ugly head causing me to have an ugly head. i mean seriously. ew.

and have you SEEN the price of the refill razor heads for the Venus Embrace® holy shitfire leroy! lets just say i had hairy ankles for a few weeks there.

all of this adds up to me feeling sorry for myself not only cause i am broke, but also cause i am hairy and broke. homemade pedicure nothwithstanding (and so far lacking any hair on my toeknuckles) all of this poorness leaves me all furry and frumpy.

my coworker and sadistic friend Julie suggested i go look up my name on UrbanDictionary

its funny. i just had someone tell me yesterday how hard it was to overlook my femaleness. who to believe??!?!?

i ask myself this question quite a bit. i talk too much and have no filter. so, i do and say embarassing crap all the time, it just turns out i don’t seem to care that much, mostly.

this time, i’m blushing.

patient in the clinic is setting an appointment. the following exchange ensues:

me: would you like an appointment card?

he: yes please. my short term memory isn’t so great.

me: (slyly) too many drugs in your youth?

he: no. too many IED’s in Iraq.

me: (momentarily dumbfounded…) i’m sorry. that’s WAY less fun!

oh. my. god. another patient in the clinic came up after and expressed his sympathies.

“I mean, you never know when something like that’s going to come up.”

seriously? its less that i attempted the lame joke in the first place, or even that it went so very wrong, but that THEN i went ahead and said something EVEN MORE ASSININE to try and smooth things over.

can it be the weekend now, please?

i mean, i like to think i have it all figured out, but in some cases, what i think i have figured out kinda sucks. and in those cases, it’s really nice to be wrong.

so, here’s to wrongness today, in all its glory.

to celebrate i’m going to go out after work and play a little game i like to call “thwak…sh*t…thwak…fu&K!”

more commonly known as tennis. i am no good. but i love it. plus also, i look super hot in the tiny little skirt.

p.s. surprises are not always nice, but they are almost always pretty interesting.

and not because i have been up to no good, or doing anything fun, or strenuous, or for any other reason than my persistent klutzitude. which is prodigious.

i put on slippy shoes this morning. they are orange and cute as hell, but dangerous. as i was attempting to get off my chair to grab a file my foot shot out from beneath me on the hard slick linoleum and i landed full weight on the hard bony nub of my right hip. i laughed hard enough, but also, fuckow.

i am now walking with a pronounced limp and working on what i suspect will be a bruise of monumental size and purpleness.

and, of course, complaning.

stupid falling.

i have only been intermittently successful with the not crying.

it hurts knowing i am only a memory

ok, maybe i exaggerate. but i was working out last night (have decided to quell obsessive voice in head with exersize rather than sex and/or drugs) and was having a generally good time of it. sweating, breathing heavy, hurting just a little… (kinda like when i’m having a generally good time with sex and/or drugs)

i like to run. i also like the elipitcal trainer. i like weights. i like the gym. given my druthers, i go everyday. i listen to this american life while i’m huffing along. i annoy my fellow workers out with my random bursts of laughter. i stare out the windows at cooper mountain. these are good times.

what was not such good times yesterday was the sad injury i sustained when trying to re-rack my weights. now, you’d think by this point in my life, i would know my way around a rack (rimshot), but i misjudged my distance and pinched the holy living f*&k out of my index finger. pinching your pointed between a metal shelf and a 15lb barbell is not so much fun. hideous blood blister did ensue.

i hurt myself in stupid ways all the time and a huge proportion of these injuries occur when i am in pursuit of better health. hence, i’m all lean and fit and look like a victim of “enhanced interrogation methods”

sheesh.

i’ve been wondering lately if the notion of a “best friend” endures into adulthood. if you’d asked me this question a year ago, i would have answered with a resounding,
“uh-huh!”
however, the person who filled that role in my life since i was about 17 and i haven’t even spoken in almost a year, and so now i am no longer sure.

the common wisdom tells us it becomes more difficult to make substantial social connections as we age. that intimacy becomes harder to establish, new friendships less likely to endure.

the way we forge connections changes radically as life goes on. our life circumstances, personalities, ethics, preferences, and degree of emotional competency take on distinct texture and permanence as we age. proximity is, then, no longer the defining characteristic of friendship. the accessibility of a playmate, once the cardinal trait of friendship, becomes largely irrelevant. our sensibilities evolve with our interests and we learn to make alliances based on hobbies, political leanings, fondness for drink, and countless other considerations.

and though these might seem to be a more sound and enduring basis upon which to form a lasting social connection, there are constraints presented by our maturity which can hamper the evolution of the emotional connection of the intensity and scope inherent to the “best friend” role. no longer can we hope to be as unaffected or vulnerable as when we were children. our actions are moderated and mitigated by our experience and politesse. the fear of revealing too much, or pressing upon the tolerance of another. we no longer possess the glorious insensitivity to the effect of our unbridled self upon others.

to my mind at least, it is in many ways the drama of our adolescence that makes the profound and enduring emotional and cognitive impressions upon us that allow us to feel as though we really, really know someone, deep down at their core. it is unusual to encounter a relationship, not romantic in nature, that can (or should) generate this same type of intensity once we are out of those tumultuous formative years. and perhaps if we don’t emerge from this time with a person who has run this gauntlet beside us, they cannot really know us; cannot appreciate our evolution and our constancy.

not to forget the logistical and practical constraints of adulthood. we don’t have time on our hands to devote to just being around to discover or communicate every damn thing.

and all of this being said, i have to admit, the conclusion i come to is that while it may be possible to have a best friend as an adult, it might not be possible to acquire one if you wrecked or lost the one you already had. and this makes me sad and lonesome and wistful. because that’s what seems to have happened. and there doesn’t seem to be anything i can do about it.

i’ve been wondering lately if the notion of a “best friend” endures into adulthood. if you’d asked me this question a year ago, i would have answered with a resounding,
“uh-huh!”
however, the person who filled that role in my life since i was about 17 and i haven’t even spoken in almost a year, and so now i am no longer sure.

the common wisdom tells us it becomes more difficult to make substantial social connections as we age. that intimacy becomes harder to establish, new friendships less likely to endure.

the way we forge connections changes radically as life goes on. our life circumstances, personalities, ethics, preferences, and degree of emotional competency take on distinct texture and permanence as we age. proximity is, then, no longer the defining characteristic of friendship. the accessibility of a playmate, once the cardinal trait of friendship, becomes largely irrelevant. our sensibilities evolve with our interests and we learn to make alliances based on hobbies, political leanings, fondness for drink, and countless other considerations.

and though these might seem to be a more sound and enduring basis upon which to form a lasting social connection, there are constraints presented by our maturity which can hamper the evolution of the emotional connection of the intensity and scope inherent to the “best friend” role. no longer can we hope to be as unaffected or vulnerable as when we were children. our actions are moderated and mitigated by our experience and politesse. the fear of revealing too much, or pressing upon the tolerance of another. we no longer possess the glorious insensitivity to the effect of our unbridled self upon others.

to my mind at least, it is in many ways the drama of our adolescence that makes the profound and enduring emotional and cognitive impressions upon us that allow us to feel as though we really, really know someone, deep down at their core. it is unusual to encounter a relationship, not romantic in nature, that can (or should) generate this same type of intensity once we are out of those tumultuous formative years. and perhaps if we don’t emerge from this time with a person who has run this gauntlet beside us, they cannot really know us; cannot appreciate our evolution and our constancy.

not to forget the logistical and practical constraints of adulthood. we don’t have time on our hands to devote to just being around to discover or communicate every damn thing.

and all of this being said, i have to admit, the conclusion i come to is that while it may be possible to have a best friend as an adult, it might not be possible to acquire one if you wrecked or lost the one you already had. and this makes me sad and lonesome and wistful. because that’s what seems to have happened. and there doesn’t seem to be anything i can do about it.

i woke up this morning in the same mood i’ve been in for days. it’s not a happy one. and yet, for some reason, as i walked past the lilac bush outside my front door, i plucked some blossoms and decided to breathe.

some time ago i was compelled to take a theology class. though it wasn’t necessarily a choice i would have made on my own, i found the class deeply rewarding. not least because of the reading material the sister required for the class. as pertinent to this; Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hahn. and though this is a simple book in every sense, it has offered some of the most practical and useful advice about life i have encountered. yet as simple as it is, i have been truly amazed at how easy it is to forget these truths.

Like:

breathe
smile
be gentle
attend to the smallest and most immediate pleasures
stay present in the moment

and i have not done as much of any of this as i should lately. and for some reason, on this soft grey spring day, i am finding it a little easier than usual. i think i can thank the lilacs…